Date: Thu, 3 Jun 2010 11:18:55 -0400
From: Jade <phantomscorpio77@gmail.com>
Subject: Gay/High School : If You Could Read My Mind 9

Copyright 2010 by Jaden Lane, All Rights Reserved.  No part of this book
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This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblances to any person, place, or
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between young men.  Do not read if you find that objectionable or if it is
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>>).:.(<<


If You Could Read My Mind


Alone together in the kitchen for a moment, Bailey calls his sister over,
"Brooke!  Yo, woman!  C'mere."

Brooke casts him a glare to say she's busy, "What?"

"You haven't asked me what happened yet.  I thought you'd be all over that
like a fat kid on a Smartie," Bailey says with a stupid grin plastered to
his face.

"Let me guess.  Everyone said goodbye to Kershaw and it was all emotional.
Well, I've got Megan to console tonight.  You're just going to have to jerk
both of your inches off before you go to bed and you'll be able to sleep.
And by the way, I'm busy right now," Brooke says, trying to brush Bailey
off because she feels incredibly low for sleeping with the guy he's in love
with.

"What the hell is your obsession with trying to embarrass me?  A girl
shouldn't be talking about her brother's, you know, and if he
you-know-what's with it.  And, not that it's any of your business in the
first place, but it's bigger than that anyways, thank you very much Bitch,"
Bailey says and stomps from the grill over to the fryers.

Brooke reticently follows him across the kitchen, "Sorry, I'm just
preoccupied right now.  What's up Baby-bro?"

Mad at his sister, Bailey mutters, "He kissed me."

"Who?  Kershaw?  Oh, Jeremy?  What an absolute ass!  You better not have
kissed back for all that little shit has caused.  And you're all but
committed to Neville now anyways," Brooke lectures, the guilt of what she's
done causing a sense of panic to rise in her chest and her throat to
tighten.

Oblivious to his sister's tense voice as he dumps burnt fries in the
garbage and starts cooking fresh ones, Bailey exclaims, "No stupid, forget
the funeral.  That really sucked balls.  Neville kissed me again and he
said he loves me right before he took off!  Can you believe it?  He smiled
at me and looked like he was about to cry and he hugged me so tight and he
felt so good and he was wearing my cologne again and he kissed me and told
me I'm such a Godsend and that he doesn't deserve me and that he loves me!
I think he was trying to console me over the funeral, but can you believe
it?  He said he loves me!"

If messing with Neville was like being stabbed with a jagged knife,
Bailey's excitement is like that knife being twisted inside, "And then, and
then, and then!  This one time at band camp..."

Bailey mock slaps his sister, "Shut up and help me here!  What do you think
it means?  Like loves-me-as-a-friend or wants-to-hop-in-the-sack-with-me
love?"

"You can't tell him I told you, but I know for a fact there's something in
his pants he'd love to gift wrap and give to you," Brooke says, in hopes
that if she can get them together she can ease her conscience.

In his excitement Bailey almost drops a roast beef sandwich on the floor as
he plates it with the original lukewarm fries he intended to replace,
"We'll see about that.  Maybe I'll be the one gift wrapping mine for, oh my
God, never mind!  Forget I said that.  But he told you he's gay?  You know
for a fact he likes me?"

"Yes, he told me his heart belongs to you, just like I know your butt
belongs to him," Brooke says with a wink and takes the plate of old fries
and the nearly dropped sandwich to her table.

Talking to her back as she leaves Bailey informs, "It's called a bottom.
Maybe I'm a top, maybe I'm a bottom.  Maybe I'm both.  One thing's for
sure, it's none of your business."

Returning a minute later with her guilt momentarily assuaged, Brooke gets
in another dig, "Well, Mr. Top, just make sure he puts a condom on when you
sit on top of him, you don't know where his monster's been.  And a word of
caution now that you may just transfer the rights to your virginity from
your hand to him; don't go rooting too deep into his past.  He's very
protective of that, but he's promised to give his story.  I'm sure more to
you than us, but only when he's ready.  And never ask about old boyfriends
or girlfriends and what he did with them.  Don't tell him about what you
and Jeremy did unless he specifically asks, and even then be vague.  It's
bad for relationships."

Now loading a dish rack, Bailey is on a cloud, "Thanks!  I think I'm going
to go give him a call as soon as Dad takes over for me and tell Nev I love
him too.  I was so happy that I couldn't even manage to speak and tell him
I love him too when he said it!"

>>).:.(<<

Deep in thought in the wee hours of the cold morning as he cleans out the
change rooms in the arena before going to bed, Neville realizes the inner
peace he thought he'd found barefoot on the rooftop the previous night over
the prospect of becoming a father was an illusion at best.

`Shock?  Was I in shock maybe?  What was I thinking?  Stupid, stupid,
stupid!  Time to screw your head back on straight, kid!  God, I'm so
stupid!  I don't like girls; that whole experience was disturbing and we
just let it play out.  And then for good measure, just in case the first
time didn't do the trick, I had to go and make sure she gets pregnant.

This has to stop.  Now!  I think I'm in love with Bailey but look what it's
done to my whole life.  I'm taking risks I can't afford.  I am living above
the radar and people are noticing.  Josh has seen a change, pretending
there's something on my face when I know he means a smile.  Kelsey actually
speaks to me now.  Brooke's trying to badger the truth out of me.  Even
Mrs. O'Keefe and her husband from the pharmacy are closing in on me.
Instead of a cash tip she brings in things that I need.  And Mrs. MacLeod's
still checking up on me for the school with Davis.  Sooner or later he's
just going to tell her the truth to get her off his back, especially with
my tendency to steal things from the arena when I'm stressed.

That's it.  Church tomorrow, I need to straighten my ass out.  Get my life
back to basics and back to living as honest as I can.  No more stealing.  I
have a job now and enough clothes hoarded for next year, let alone this
year.  Anything else I want or need from now on I'm gonna buy.  No more
stealing money from pockets.  No more stealing looks at the guys when they
change, not now that I have some sort of chance with Bailey.  Well, maybe
I'll let that one slide, it's not like I can watch any real porn on the
computers at school or at the public library.  Is it still a mortal sin to
admire the naked male form, created in the image of God?  Yeah, probably.
Especially when I'm doing it without permission from the guys I spy on.
Fuck!

Theft first.  I'll deal with that first and stop it.  Swearing second,
'cause I don't know when my mouth got so foul.  I never swore at home and
now it flows so easily through my mind and just rolls off my tongue.
School, homework, work, Bailey, and church.  I need to focus my life back
on the simple things again.

Thank God she's a woman Reverend.  If she were a guy, I don't know how I
could trust him, tell him I'm gay, in love with a guy, and hoping God's
cool with it all.  He'd probably hate me and send me away.  Maybe even
think my dad was right and call him up or just do the deed for me.  Or take
advantage of me.  No, if she were a man I wouldn't be ready for this.

I just hope she's ready for me crashing her party tomorrow!  Hell, I pray
she's bound to silence by God if I decide to tell her anything.  Gonna
hafta feel her out first before I spill any major beans to her.  She
probably can sense me coming, probably waking in her sleep in a cold sweat
right now just knowing something evil is heading her way.  I just really
need someone to show me the way, because I've lost it somehow.  I hope
she's brave, I hope she's up to it 'cause I really need her help.'

Sitting down in his bed Neville pulls out his copy of The Golden Compass
that Mrs. MacLeod gave him.  With his neat and determined handwriting he
fills the couple blank pages in the back of the novel, scribing the lyrics
to the song Show Me the Way by Styx into it.  Mrs. MacLeod is the person
that invited him to the church ages ago, even though it is not the same
faith he grew up in.  The book being an extension of her, he unconsciously
writes the song into it because she has tried to guide him along his way.
The song itself and the band have religious overtones and were approved
listening material at home by his parents for he and his siblings.  Right
now he wants to find his faith again and the song personifies how he feels
so much that he absently writes the song's title across the first digits of
his left hand fingers.  He recites the lyrics in his head as a prayer
before unbuttoning his jeans for comfort and curling up on the towels of
his bed.

Waking early in the morning off of less than five hours sleep, Neville
tends to his morning business and has a shower before the first bleary-eyed
parents drag in their equally tired 5 and 6 year old sons for tyke hockey.
By the time the alarm on his watch announces 7:00 am Neville is as clean as
he can get, groomed, and dressed in the best suit he can piece together.
Minutes later, he feels the winter jacket almost takes away from how good
he's looking this morning, but it's still a necessity in the cold air
outside.  It's gotten so bitterly cold again that the crunching snow and
cracking ice under his feet even sound different on his way to the church
that he's asked Brooke to meet him at later.

There are few occupants as he holds his breath and enters the church.  Two
aisles break up the rows of pews, with the centre section of the galley
wider than the side benches.  He doesn't want to be noticed, which he knows
is impossible, but he does want to be as covert as possible.  Sitting in
the back, everyone will pass him on their way to the pews and stare or
whisper.  Sitting in the front he may be taking someone's usual spot.
Sitting on the very outside of a row may ostracise him.  Frozen in place
for too long while trying to decide where a good spot to sit is, hands
gently claps him over the shoulders.

"Welcome to Centenary Church, Neville Reilly.  You're looking very handsome
today," Reverend Ingrid Francis says, snapping Neville from his vacant
gaze.

"Thank you ma'am.  Uh, is there somewhere I can sit where I'm not taking
anyone's place," Neville says as he turns to who he's sure is Mrs. MacLeod
from school, only to realize that while the voice may be the same the
person before him is someone entirely different.

Understanding Neville's surprise, she smiles as she beckons him along an
aisle, "You thought I was my sister.  She'll be along soon enough.  You can
sit with her family if you like, or let me see...yes, right there.  That
spot is always empty; it must have been waiting for you!"

"You're her sister?  Wait, how do you know me?" Neville blurts out the
questions in a conversational tone before lowering his voice to what he
feels is a more respectable volume for inside a church, "Please pardon my
rudeness Reverend, I seem to have lost my manners lately."

"And your way it would seem," She suggests and punctuates the words with a
compassionate smile.

"Is it that obvious?  I thought I was doing okay, but lately it's been
difficult," Neville says with his usually observant eyes cast down towards
the red and blue floral carpet runner along which Reverend Francis leads
him.

"It's written on your hand," She indicates as they near a random pew to
which she's leading him.  Much like his thoughts, she's picked a spot where
she thinks he'll feel he doesn't stand out too much.

Looking down to his hand that still has `show me the way' across his
fingers despite his shower, Neville notes that she's just as sharp as her
sister, "That it is, that it is.  Good eye Reverend, just like Mrs. M."

"Helen watches out for you; you really break her heart.  She'll be
overjoyed that you've finally decided to join us today," Reverend Francis
says as she sits down on a bench halfway to the front of the church and off
to the left, and indicates for Neville to sit with her.

"What, like you guys have talked about me?  Great, I knew this was a bad
idea," Neville says and looks back towards the doors rather than sitting.

Reverend Francis clasps her hands around his wrists and feels a flare of
his muscles in response.  Rather than recoil, Neville allows himself to be
pulled down to sit beside her.

"She's mentioned you.  Have a seat Neville.  I've also seen you stare at
the church many times since she bid you try us.  In our faith we believe
God is more forgiving and understanding than other religions.  I've watched
you read many of those messages out front countless times."

"How?  Uh, sorry.  I shouldn't take up your time, I'm sure you have more
important things to do before the service," Neville says, finally slumping
into the pew beside her.

"Nothing I can think of.  You finally have decided to trust your faith
after many failed attempts, rather than just continue to stare through the
stained glass and cast your prayers from afar.  I've stared back at you
through that stained glass wall of my rectory innumerable times and prayed
for you.  I have all the time in the world.  Until 8:30.  Then I do have a
service to start," She smiles.

"Oh wow, you even know I pray from across the street.  Okay.  But I need to
know something upfront.  Yeah, I'm troubled, but I need to know that
whatever I say to you, you only listen and guide.  You don't say anything
to anyone but God and you don't try to intervene or help.  If you can't
promise me that on the good book, I'm so outta here," Neville barters.

In one form or another Ingrid has been asked the same thing more times than
she can possibly remember.  She's been asked to secrecy from cheating
husbands and wives, criminals, and suicidal parishioners right down to
young children who think they are the cause of things that happen far above
their control.  Sometimes the problems she's related are mountains being
made out of mole hills, sometimes the opposite.  She feels she's become a
good judge of character and has learned to be a quick read as the faces
looking to her don't wait long for an answer.

Without having a past relationship to base Neville against she has to rely
on instinct.  Through her sister she knows Neville is an honest and good
kid, but has a troubled life that is worrisome.  Knowing this, Reverend
Francis is hesitant to agree, but does her best to not convey it, "You have
my word."

Lifting his shoulders, Neville feels a touch of relief.  He decides to test
the waters, "Uh, alright then.  Well here goes...For starters, just to get
it out there and just so you know; I'm a gay teenager.  I think you might
already know because I'm pretty sure Mrs. M knows and I think that's why
she went out of her way to tell me in a roundabout way that this church
accepts my kind.  I've looked it up and I'm pretty sure this denomination
accepts me.  Is it true?"

Relieved to think it's just a matter of Neville seeking acceptance for his
sexuality, Reverend Francis hugs him, "It is very true, our doors are open
to you."

"Oh, good!  But, uh well, that's not really my problem.  That's not why
I've come to see you.  I have bigger problems than that.  Nothing sinister,
but I carry a heap of invisible scars and secrets that I really just don't
know how to deal with on my own anymore.  I feel I've lost my way and I
need guidance to get back on track.  You may regret giving me your word to
keep my secrets, so if you want to opt out I totally understand.  I don't
want to trap you."

She considers Neville.  She sees how deliberately careful he is with his
words, and how genuine he is in not wanting to trap her in a promise.
She's more worried now, yet as a person she's intrigued and as a reverend
she's eager to help a child in need, "I can handle whatever you can share.
I can listen and guide and I'll be upfront with you too and let you know I
may seek guidance myself where I have none to offer you, but I will keep
your identity protected in all matters."

Buoyed by her response, Neville looks around to see that their conversation
is private enough before he drops his bombshell, "Awesome!  Being a gay
soldier for God is going to be hours of talk alone because I have so many
questions and things I need to get off my chest.  If you're still willing.
Now here's the clincher.  I'm almost eighteen just so you know.  My past
life ended a couple July 4th's ago so that this one could start on a July
5th.  But in this life I happen to be homeless.  I manage decently and have
for a year and some now, almost two really.

If you say or do anything about that I'll know.  I don't mean to trap you
like this and it's wrong to play you this way, so again, I won't hold you
to your promise, because that's not right.  If you do anything about it I
know you'll be doing the right thing in the eyes of God and I can't fault
you.  But I'll have my answer; I'll know He's given up on me.

It's just that I worry about it a lot lately but I try to live an honest
life and don't think I'm evil and even if I've had to stray from the
flock...and sometimes steal from them I'm deeply embarrassed to say...I
don't think I've ever truly turned my back to His path."

"Neville, He doesn't give up on anyone that hasn't given up on Him.  You've
clearly kept your faith and that's why I agreed, so don't worry that you've
used trickery on me.  I knowingly gave you my word and vowed to keep it,"
Ingrid says with a warm smile and a sinking heart, not sure just what she's
gotten herself into.  So far he's brought up sexuality and what she assumes
to be reincarnation or rebirth, two topics she's eager to discuss.
Homelessness isn't something she wants to stand by and let happen, but
she's twice given her word now not to intervene, which is clearly how he
wants it.

Not even realizing he's piqued her interest when he slipped up and
mentioned his past life ending and a new one beginning, he's still
sceptical, "Okay, but just to be clear again, this isn't about being gay.
Like I said, I'd love to talk your ear off on my thoughts on that, and get
your thoughts too.  The reason I'm here though, while maybe born from that
is that I am making a colossal mess of other areas of my life lately."

Thinking she's on to something she directly asks, "Are you offering sex for
shelter?"

"Good God no!  In fact I'm gay and I just gave my virginity to a girl this
very weekend.  So it's not about being homeless, because I've got a pretty
good thing going.  And it's not about being a prostitute because I'm not.
You're probably thinking that because I'm gay that that means I give Davis
sex for shelter but you're dead wrong.  He's a way better human being than
that to me.  No, this is about me being trapped in a lie that just keeps
winding its way around me, tighter and tighter.  Other people seem to be
able to unravel it with ease, but every time I try to unravel it I just hit
snag after snag."

Hardly touching on his homelessness, Neville lays out the framework of his
life, that he doesn't let anyone in and yet has managed to fail at even
that.  He explains his desire to be a good boyfriend to Bailey and how it
has overshadowed all of his actions and clouded his judgement lately to the
point that he figures he's going to be a father.

Half an hour later when the Reverend excuses herself to prepare for the
service, among the half full church one young soul is slightly lifted, one
older soul is much more deeply burdened.

>>).:.(<<

After the service Neville is spotted by Mrs. MacLeod who attempts to make
her way towards him but gets interrupted.  By the time she can make her way
to him he is already huddled with Brooke and Megan on the sidewalk.

Her sister halts her, "That one is going to take some time and needs to be
given ample space Helen.  You're right to worry about him, but some spark
keeps him going.  To hear what he chose to share this morning, and he chose
carefully, I'd never in a million years put him and the boy you know
together as one, even knowing in advance from you that there was a troubled
soul inside your top student.  I barely scratched the surface with him so
far, and yet he just matter of fact told me how it is.  What I don't know
is why it is the way it is."

"How does he see it?  How is it?"

"Like his situation is no cause for concern.  He does have shelter, he does
have food, he actually has a job and he has people looking out for him
beyond you and that family that opened the diner across the way.  Rather
than seeking help, he came to discuss his personal theology with me.
Despite your misgivings and my apprehension, for the most part he's making
finer lemonade out of his lemons than anyone I've met in all my years in
the cloth, outside of my missionary work in the refugee camps.  And he
sells it as tap water.  He's so unbelievably grounded; what he sees as the
mere reality of getting by from day to day I see as sheer inspiration.  I
trust you'll let me run with this one," Ingrid issues the last statement as
more of a command to her younger sister than as a question.

"I do worry about him.  I'm sure it would kill his spirit to know that
every day I check up on him at school, but come the weekend he's on his own
to fend for himself.  Getting a job in that diner is the greatest blessing
he could have been given.  He's looking as healthy as any other boy his age
now."

"Much better than a few months ago, he certainly didn't feel the slightest
bit frail the few times I was able to check," Ingrid says, referring to
clasping his shoulders tightly when he first entered, and later his wrists
when she pulled him down to the pew.  She's sure his lean frame could have
easily resisted.

Helen MacLeod is relieved, "Good.  But Davis Millar is no father figure to
him, and the arena is no place for him to spend so much of his time, albeit
that shack of a house isn't much better.  It looks so unliveable it's no
wonder he spends Sunday nights in his mother's truck.  But if you say you
have him under your wing now, I'll leave him to you.  On the topic of
lemons and lemonade, I brought some lemon drop cookies for the baked sale
this afternoon.  I'm going to grab them from the car and get out of this
cold.  Should we start setting up without you?"

Indicating Brooke and Megan beside Neville, Ingrid guesses, "I don't
believe so.  Having an audience with him will tighten his tongue."

>>).:.(<<

"So, church huh," Brooke asks.

"Yeah.  I didn't spontaneously combust or get struck down by lightning when
I entered this morning.  I think I'm going to take up a longstanding offer
and finally join," Neville says with satisfaction.

"What offer?  You're going to join the clergy and be celibate now because
of what happened," Brooke defensively asks.

Laughing her off, Neville explains, "It was like a summer weeknight or
something.  It was a warm night, I remember wishing I had shorts on, but my
legs were already getting too knobby to be put on display.  I was staring
across the intersection from over there because I thought I saw
Mrs. MacLeod coming out with her husband.  She saw me and waved me across
the street.  It wasn't the right time because I think they were here for
her grandkid's baptism, it looked like that to me anyways.  But she took me
aside and told me that her faith accepts all kinds.  I sort of spat out a
`what does that mean' and she said that the purple doors advertise exactly
what they are meant to, and that her God accepts his children from all
colours of the rainbow.  Today was my first time stepping inside though."

"Bailey said he thought you were religious," Brooke says to break a sudden
silence.

"Yeah, I have my own thing with God, but I think it fits with this church,"
Neville acknowledges before inferring about Megan, "I guess she knows."

Megan speaks for the first time, her normally acidic tongue filled with
more venom than usual, "Yes, she knows.  She's not going to kill you, but
torture's definitely not out of the question yet.  I'm fucking pissed at
you asshole, both of you.  It's freezing out here.  Unless we're here to
wet your gonads and freeze them to a metal pole so you can painfully tear
them off, repeatedly, let's go somewhere.  Although personally, cold as it
may be out here, I'm hoping for the display of public punishment.  I kind
of want to severely damage your penis right now."

Neville nods agreement, "Fair enough.  I don't blame you.  Does Bailey know
too?"

"No, he'd throw himself off the Confederation Bridge into the icy water
below.  We're leaving that up to you.  C'mon lets hit McDonald's.  Have
someone else serve us breakfast for a change."

"No!  We can't.  I uh, hate McDonald's," Neville protests.

"Your place it is then," Megan decides.

"Well, that doesn't work either.  Let's just go to the hotel there for
something if you're hungry.  Pricy, but they have a decent buffet," Neville
suggests.

"Why not your place Daddy Dearest," Megan taunts, "Don't want your parents
to know you're out knocking girls up?"

Brooke rebukes the comment, "Hey!"

"You guys are still girlfriends aren't you," Neville asks with concern.

"No thanks to the snake in your pants.  And seeing as though we're by your
church Pancakes, by snake I mean the lying serpent that said to eat the
apple," Megan scathes.

He's not crying but his misty green eyes have an extra sheen to them and he
can instantly feel the excess water in them react to the cold air as he
addresses Megan, "Okay, forget breakfast.  I'm not hungry and it isn't why
I asked Brooke to meet me.  I was hoping there was some magic bullet to use
so you don't hate my guts forever, but I don't blame you, you're the victim
here.  I'll quit my job and find some other honest way to make money.  Just
hear me out guys; you can't abort it.  If we, you know, just made a life.
Whatever you do, please, PLEASE, don't do that.  I don't know how but
somehow I'll make it work for you.  I'll be eighteen by then too, well
close anyways.  Nine months or ten from conception?  No, yeah, I'll really
be eighteen by then.  We can put it up for adoption or I'll find some way
to support you both."

Megan doesn't know what she wants.  An apology would be a good start but
not enough, "I'm going back home to help.  Josh's mom can't handle it by
herself.  Can I trust you two alone or should I damage Pancakes in the
plums before I leave?"

Not waiting for an answer Megan turns and leaves.  With Megan walking one
way Neville leads Brooke the other way, past a couple businesses he used to
scavenge from like a raccoon.  As if avoiding eye contact with someone that
knows his secrets, he refuses to even look at the two higher-end dining
establishments.

Neville's face is unreadable as they aimlessly walk in the general
direction of their school so Brooke tries to cheer him up, "We'll figure it
out.  She wants to keep it too if I'm pregnant, she's just pissed beyond
belief at both of us right now.  But she did call you by her pet name
instead of anything off the lengthy list she rhymed off last night.  And if
it's a boy she conceded she wants to partly use your name.  Do you have a
middle name?"

"Uh, Sort of, yeah, but I don't like the name Harold all that much really.
If I ever have a son I like the name Eli.  It kind of has major sentimental
value to me," Neville offers with a distant, child-like smile.

"You're all dreamy-eyed.  We're not naming a kid after some guy you have a
thing for," Brooke states.

"No Brooke, Eli's so much more than just some guy; I can't explain it but
he and I will forever be way closer than that.  And I don't even like him
that way, not every action I take is controlled by what's in my pants.
Everything I am, every good part of me I owe to him.  Some days I miss him
so badly, he was such a good guy.  You'd really like him, even more than
you like me.  I need to start being like him again," Neville offers from
the heart.

Every word he speaks is true, he just wishes he could let Brooke know the
deeper meaning of what he's just said.  One day he will, once he turns
eighteen on his real birthday in November rather than the day he became
Neville.

Speaking of guys, Brooke steers the conversation to her brother, "Well
whoever Eli is, at least you kissed the right Regan yesterday afternoon and
told him you love him.  Bailey is so over the moon right now!  He tried
calling you like a hundred times last night, even after he got the school's
answering machine the very first time."

"Remember how I told you my life's not that easy?  Well, the truth is we
don't even have a phone.  That's why I had to give you guys the school's
number."

"So tell me something more, something that's not just a brush-off.  Like
where you live for starters, you're address is the school's too."

"Fine, come with me.  I'll see what I can share," Neville says with a smile
and begins to absentmindedly bite the corner of his lips.

Neville leads Brooke to the arena and into the stands where a figure
skating club is now practising.  After deep contemplation he tries to
reform the truth, "Okay.  Uh, you know home life is not so good for me
right?  Well for starters my parents don't actually live here in
Charlottetown.  I kind of stay with Davis Millar, who's like the
superintendant for this arena and practically lives here, and sort of like
my uncle, and I only see Crystal on Sundays and stay with her for the night
when she does her run down here."

Contemplating the information Brooke exclaims, "Okay, that makes sense!
It's somewhere between what you told us and the rumours that you may be
homeless."

As much as it pains him, Neville continues, "Well, what you knew before is
kind of a bunch of lies.  Now I'm strictly telling you the truth, but not
even half of it.  I'm left to my own devices and take care of myself.
Aside from Bailey getting in my head and me doing stupid things because I
want him, even though he won't want me when he knows the whole truth, the
last three months have by far been the best in my life for a really long
time."

"I don't know what to say," Brooke puts out there.

Neville quickly answers, "Don't say anything.  I'm dirt-ass poor.  I wear
second hand clothes.  All I know lately is that despite tragic consequences
with the first, last, and only guy I hoped to be boyfriends with before
Bailey, everything I do and try to be now is to hopefully be good enough
for Bailey.  His name is Steve by the way, not Eli in case that's where
your mind's going, and all I ever got was to kiss him before life flipped
upside down and I ended up here."

"Where were you before you ended up here?" Brooke tries to pry.

Neville doesn't want to lie so he avoids answering the question, "Doesn't
matter anymore.  That was almost two years ago.  This is where I am now.
And along the way Bailey, Megan, you, and your family have been the only
people to not pretend like I don't exist.  Oh, and Mr. And Mrs. O'Keefe and
Mrs. MacLeod take pity on me a bit too.  But rather than pity me, you've
given me some dignity and I hate myself for letting you know all of this
because now you're going to react.  And I don't know how you're going to
react."

Brooke feels ashamed, "I don't know.  I guess knowing you'll be the father
is sort of calming.  That's the part that Megan's okay with, just not the
fact that I threw myself on you and you didn't know how to protest.  So I
owe it to you to listen and be a friend, and let you tell your story at
your own pace like you said on Friday.  Do you think I raped you Nev?"

"Uh, no.  It takes two to tango.  If anything, I guess I felt the second
time had to happen willingly, because I'd never want a kid to be born by
mistake.  Going through life that way would be a shitty deal," Neville
admits.

Brooke changes topics, "So how do we get you with Baby-bro?"

>>).:.(<<

"Hey Crystal!  How goes?"

"Little Man Tate!  I've been worrying about you all week!  I never trade
off this run because you never skip out on me.  When I didn't see you last
week I thought maybe you had moved in with your little boyfriend and
outgrown Old Crystal.  That or you were in a ditch somewhere."

"Uh, last I checked I'm not down for the big sleep just yet, and I'll never
outgrow you Crystal!  Just because I want to mess around in bed with boys
my age doesn't mean I'll ever drop you.  You're just too awesome to me.
Here, I brought you a couple of these, I haven't seen any in your truck for
a while."

"Aw, Baby Ruth; I love her!  You're too sweet, but so are they Honey.
That's why I can't have them anymore.  With my diabetes they raise my blood
sugar too high."

"Oh.  Uh, sorry.  I thought with diabetes you needed sugar or insulin.  I
didn't know it meant you have too much sugar."

"No sweat off my back little man!  Diabetes is complicated, more than I
care to bother with half the time.  I'll tell you what, I'll keep these and
work on them slowly.  You ready for dinner?  There's a steak and eggs
platter with my name on it."

"And a couple cold beers too?"

"A couple?"

"Yeah, I could use one.  I've got some serious problems on my shoulders
this week!"

Over dinner Neville fills Crystal in on his possible impending fatherhood
and everything else that is happening in his life lately.

She's upset, but tries not to let her disappointment show.  She had thought
the Regan family would be a good thing for Neville and never in a million
years would have guessed at this outcome.  At her stage in life she's
accepted living day to day and week to week, never really contemplating her
future because the prospect is too bleak.  She's settled for what life has
handed her and stopped trying for more.  Intending to sooth Neville, her
defeatist sentiment is conveyed as she tells him, "Well Honey, now you're
going to have to wait and see what happens.  Whatever will be will be."

Neville can't remember the last time he quietly cried himself to sleep
while lying next to Crystal.  From her perspective of many more years on
this earth, it hasn't been that long since she felt Neville's body quiver
as he tries to hide that he's crying.  As in the past, for his dignity she
lets him believe she's oblivious to it and hugs him loosely as her worry
for him fades into a calm sleep.


>>).:.(<<

Bailey takes a chance that the boy he's obsessed with will be getting
dropped off by whom he believes to be Neville's mother in a transport
truck.  Much like he spotted a couple months ago, when Neville confirmed to
him that he gets a ride to school in it on Mondays.

Spotting Neville being let out down the street Bailey starts walking
towards him.  For an instant it looks like Neville is going to head to the
arena but Bailey gets his attention, "Nev!  Over here!"

Neville groans inside as he changes direction and heads for Bailey, "Hey!"

Bailey is exuberant, "Still loving the family car.  So that's your Mom
huh?"

Neville tries to answer curtly, but the pools of hope looking into his eyes
change his mind and soften his tone, "Uh, yeah, something like that."

Stepping to the side between the double doors as they enter the school,
Bailey pulls Neville towards himself and steers for his lips, kissing him
full on.

Neville backs off, "You don't get to do that!"

Bailey is bewildered, "What?  Why?"

"Because you don't.  Them's the rules," Neville tries to assert, realizing
that even to himself it sounds pathetically childish.

Bailey plays along anyways, "No way.  I haven't been able to put you out of
my mind since you ran off on me Saturday.  You've kissed me, I get to kiss
you.  Them's the rules."

Neville again tries to sound serious but only comes off as playfully
inviting, "Uh, nope.  Doesn't work that way."

"Sure it does," Bailey corrects him and punctuates it with a kiss on the
tip of Neville's nose.

Neville puts his hand to Bailey's face and with his index finger repeatedly
traces the outline of the lips he wants to kiss back, "Look Bailey, you've
got to let me run with this one, give me a little time.  Please?  I want
this too, I want you.  Like really want you more than anything I've wanted
in a long time.  But if you force it you're going to train wreck the whole
thing in a fiery mess over a steep cliff with jagged rocks below."

Bailey takes the finger that is tracing his lips into his hand and kisses
it, "Sounds gruesome."

Neville can't help himself from smiling despite his protests.  Bailey just
kissed him a moment ago and now he's feeling elated, "Tell me about it,
totally macabre right!  That's far from what I want too, by the way.  So
just let me control the pace?  You're cute as a button and well, here, give
me your hand.  Trust me on this one, this is what you do to me, okay?  So
just be patient.  You have got to believe me, I'm trying here, I'm really
trying.  Someone's coming."

Bailey changes the subject as the two unconsciously both straighten their
winter coats, not that they got messed up, "Forgot your bag today?"

As a teacher walks through the front doors Neville answers, "Uh, yeah.  I
guess I left it at home because I didn't even have it in the truck with
me."

"So do I get to meet your parents sometime soon," Bailey asks as he strains
to contain his excitement.

"Uh, yeah.  Maybe.  I dunno.  They're both gone so much and really busy and
stuff.  I'm going to run home and grab my bag, okay?  I have homework I
need to hand in today or Mr. Grant docks ten percent per day even if you
get to him before the end of the same day."

"I never took you for one that left things to the last minute.  I'll come
with," Bailey offers, hoping to head home with Neville as he retrieves his
book bag.

"No!  Uh, look, I'll just be quicker if I go myself.  I gotta go, like
right now, though.  We'll talk at lunch.  I'll come to the cafeteria
because lately it seems like everyone knows where to track me down anyways.
And as for homework, things have been a juggling act lately but I had it
done days ago; it's only due today.  See ya," Neville says and rushes
outside, leaving Bailey as confused as usual.

Recklessly ducking in and out of the arena, Neville luckily just escapes
being spotted by a couple guys from the school's hockey team on his way
out.  Lost in thought, he's nearly distraught, `What a weekend of
screw-ups.  I messed up with Brooke, Megan looks so hurt by me and Bailey
has no clue.  The silly monkey even met me at school to give me our first
kiss.  And lame, I may add, why between the doors at school?  Real romantic
for a first kiss.  Then there's no doubt Crystal was trying to hide her
disappointment last night and this morning either.  Oh God!  Bailey thinks
she's my mom and wants to meet her and he wants to see my home and I am so
beyond screwed!'

[to be continued]